Too often, the architecture that defines our landscape is razed to the ground and relegated to memory-condemned to be forgotten. In the rediscovery of these often hidden, sealed up or otherwise off-limits locations, I document our adventures through the photography presented here so that they may be remembered before it's too late.

Wednesday, February 11, 2015

Bad Trip Hospital was constructed in the early 1920's. By the 1950's, the hospital was becoming overcrowded and plans were made for an expansion. In 1954, almost 2,000 patients were admitted and over 300 babies were born here.

By the 1980's, the Board decided the old facilities were no longer sufficient to meet the needs of the local community. New land was purchased across town and the new hospital was opened in the early 1990's.

Armed with this knowledge we set off to explore an old hospital. Our expedition started off normally enough, but then things started to get weird. Strange hallucinations began to confuse our perceptions. A lizard crawled across the wall with a clock on his back. The time on the lizard was 3:22 but I knew damn well it was only 11:30. No sense in arguing, I thought. I didn't like my odds in a fight with a reptile twice my size. Paintings on the wall depicted devilish scenes and dinosaur kings. A blue man melted in the stairway. What strange trip was now taking hold of us? I began to replay the last few meals I had, hoping to recall consuming anything questionable which might explain the things I was seeing. The horse in the hallway was either just resting or dead. Snakes hissed from the eyes of an Aztec sun. Curling and menacing they coiled around my mind, choking what little coherency I had left. A grotesque monster contorted on the floor with part of his face hanging off. An expressionless head floated nearby, lending him some spatial cognizance. Elsewhere we found children's toys pinned to the ceiling as if specimens in an Entomology display. I wondered if the curator of this nightmarish museum would be returning any time soon. Did we just become the newest exhibits in his collection? Perhaps if we explained ourselves to the floating head... Surely he would take pity on us forsaken travelers. Send a telegram to the right people, at least let them know what happened to us. The floating head stared ahead silently. I could feel his condescension. The contempt in his eyes betrayed his wide, friendly smile. We were not welcome here.

Tuesday, February 10, 2015

Memorial Mound in Bessemer Alabama closed in 2002 and left some of its residents behind. According to al.com "The Alabama Department of Public Health has no authority over burial sites." The authorities knew about the situation here but nothing was done about it until photos of a corpse showed up on the internet.

The Barite Mill and Grinding Plant was active into the early 2000's. When it shut down, it was the last facility of its type in the area. It has been vacant for about a decade and most of the equipment has been removed.

Monday, February 9, 2015

This is a revisit. For my complete writeup on this place, see my previous visit here

We could tell something was happening out here on this trip. There was a construction trailer set up and the land was being cleared out. I've since learned they were preparing for demolition.

For half a century these structures stood in a remote corner of the woods, forgotten by nearly everyone who had a part in their existence. Few visitors would ever wander out to see them, in part due to the fact that they're on the wrong side of a fence whose disregard could earn steep penalties. Time wound on while vines slowly crept up the walls and nature worked to reclaim her land. This is the kind of place that exists outside of the watch of the general public and thus outside of the realm of everyday life. The hands of time seemed to be the only hands at work here for many years and this was evident in the quiet stillness found inside. Even the animals didn't seem comfortable venturing inside the walls, the only sounds were faint dripping echoes and leaves shaking in the wind. Like concrete temples they stood watch over the woods. It seemed like they had been here and would continue to be here forever. But now their clock has run out and the wrecking ball is transforming them into dust once more.

This trip represents one of the last times this location would host any such expeditions. So with this epitaph I bid this part of Mechanical City goodbye.

About Me

Disclaimer

This blog is dedicated to the pursuit of adventure and features urban exploration in Saint Louis, Missouri and beyond.

1. With the exception of historical photos, all of the photographs here are copyrighted and not to be used for any purpose without my consent. The historical imagery is courtesy of the Historical Society or as otherwise noted.

2. "Don't try this at home." I absolutely will not be held responsible for anyone else's stupidity. I do not recommend anyone try visiting any of these locations. Sometimes I am granted access to the things you see here and attempting to follow in my footsteps may get you arrested, hurt or killed.

3. I do not condone or tolerate: vandalism, theft, littering or any other disrespectful activity in any of these locations. I have the utmost respect for the history of these locations and for the history of my city, Saint Louis. "Take nothing but pictures, leave nothing but footprints."

4. Do not ask me for (or post) specific location information. If identifying information is not provided in the post, there's usually a good reason for that. Any information will be provided either at the time of posting, or updated years later, at my discretion.